


Summer Solstice - Where Bluebirds Sing

by Sherloqued



Series: Between Hay and Grass [1]
Category: Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 08:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8155984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherloqued/pseuds/Sherloqued
Summary: Ennis returns to a familiar place, where something unusual occurs.





	

Ennis parked his truck at the side of the road, took his fishing rod and creel case from out of the back of the truck. He was pretty sure he could still remember the place and how to find it. He squinted up into the sun; it wasn't quite so hot as it would be come July, so the short hike would be easy. Beyond the cool and calm of the shadows of the pines, he could see the meadow shining in the reflected sunlight. He trudged his way along the narrow path as it gradually inclined, holding out a hand to brush over the top of the waist-high grass that swayed in the breeze and nearly closed in on either side of it as he walked. Wild yarrow and mullein, cornflowers and brown-eyed Susans, sweet clover, and rebel alfalfa that had escaped the farms sported up in the grass. Tiny American Copper butterflies, and dragonflies with wings of bronze filigree flitted among the blossoms and on the path, always just one step ahead of him. When he reached the creek and marshlands, the sun had moved lower in the sky, and the marsh teemed with life, seemed to boil with it, with fish coming up to feed, and birds and frogs calling in every timbre.

Up ahead he could see it. It was still there, a rundown little picnic table with weathered blue paint, sitting canted on an uneven patch of ground. Jack had carved his initials into it, _JT_ , and Ennis had carved his too, with a pocket knife, one summer afternoon. Near nesting boxes that had been placed here and there along the edges of the meadow, for the bluebirds, and the new little speckled fledglings called to their parents, darting to and fro from the grass and back to the safety of the trees, testing their wings before returning to their wooden houses to roost for the night. He put his fishing gear down and sat on the bench, uncapped the pint of whiskey he'd brought with him and took a healthy swallow. _Where bluebirds sing and there's a whiskey spring._

 _Well, he had the whiskey part covered anyway_ , he chuckled softly to himself.   He could picture Jack there beside him, barefoot and with his jeans rolled up to his calves, after wading in from the creek with a fish. He cast his line into the water; it was getting near dusk now, and the reflection of the waxing gibbous moon glimmered on the gently rippled surface of the water. The sun melted into shades of red and gold on the horizon, and the warm glow was cast back from the mountains.

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting some of my older works.
> 
> Disclaimer: Brokeback Mountain characters and any story references belong to Annie Proulx and Focus Features.


End file.
